Of Fuzzy Socks and Bagels
by T. Rickass
Summary: Winter mornings are made to eat bagels in the parking lot.


It was a classical, cold, and crisp winter morning and the air was bitter and nipped Roxas' throat slightly when he yawned, breathing in probably more air than he needed. His eyes twitched open in preparation of harsh sunlight attacking them, instead being met with mute darkness. He half expected it to be an awkward still-night-but-morning hour, and when he glanced at the clock, he saw that it was about sixish, and therefore the sun hadn't even considered climbing the sky yet.

So of course Roxas had this obviously ridiculous idea that he'd be able to sleep in, basking in the warmth of his sheet nest and his secret fluffy socks. But no, of course not. That would be common sense, and his bedpartner had everything _except_ common sense.

Axel had other ideas on how they would be spending their glorious morning. Out in the frosty, mean, not nice cold. He thought it'd be cute and romantic to whisk his - not a morning person by any means - boyfriend out onto the streets so they could share a walk and have some breakfast together.

The aforementioned bedmate had literally had to drag the blond by his ankles out of bed, because _come on, you'll enjoy it!_

The death glare Roxas - again, by absolutely no means a morning person ever, at all - had shot his way had done very little to destroy the grin he could see on Axel's face, even in the dark.

He did feel bad for Roxas, but only for a little while, considering the younger had buried himself within the largest scarf on the planet alongside a bobble hat to cover his bedhead that made it _too embarrassing to leave, go back to bed_. There was a red flush sprawled across his cheeks and nose, and the coat he was wearing frankly made Axel look like a paedophile when walking next to him, but sadly was not keeping him warm.

The date hadn't gone that well, actually. Roxas remained the grumpiest asshole known to mankind while they walked the streets, glaring at the Christmas lights like Satan himself was the one with an arm around his shoulder.

And Axel probably should have been pissed at his attitude, would have, if he hadn't seen the excited spark in the sky-blues upon the mention of breakfast from a home-owned bakery that did the best bagels.

Roxas had held the bagel bag like it was a child, red and numb fingers curled over the folded-over top and engraving little moons into the paper, until they came to the parking lot of the little local grocer's. As it was still _six in the goddamn morning, you ass,_ only staff were in, so the blond sat his butt on the curb, hissed at the cold, and tore into the raisin infested bagel like he was half starved.

He ignored Axel's sniggers while the lanky boy sat next to him until he was finished, and after shooting him a glare, continued to ignore him while he drank his hot chocolate. Only when he stood up and was suddenly grabbed by the elder, did he pay attention.

Amidst the flailing and kicking and cussing, Axel had managed to trap Roxas in his coat and zip it up to his chin, where the scarf took over the rest of his face. And he could see the blond about to complain with the biggest scowl about Axel getting cold - as sometimes even grumpy munchkins care - but as soon as the coat was secured around him, he instantly melted into the warmth and the natural scent of his boyfriend mixed with his ritual coffee (_'black like your soul, babe, just how I like it'_) invading his senses.

They held hands on the way home.

And when they got to said home, Roxas wasted no time in replacing boots and tube socks for fuzzy ones, jeans for soft joggies, and his coats, scarf and hat for the giant tangle of sheets and blankets he'd been so untimely ripped from.

He ignored Axel when he came in and got changed too, and hissed at him when the blanket was pulled away from over his head. When a pack of cigarettes were passed to him and a chaste kiss pecked to his still-red nose though, he hummed quietly and opened the blanket, just a little, for the redhead.

Axel mumbled something about being easily pleased, before climbing into the bed and twining his arms around Roxas' waist as the blond's legs wrapped around his to pull him closer. The elder felt his fluffy socks brush against the exposed skin of his leg where his pajamas had ridden up, and he found himself smirking as he buried his nose in dandelion cowlicks.

* * *

Merry Christmas!

I tried to make this cute or fluffy or whatever, which is something I am _terrible _at, so yeah.


End file.
